Filled with shame and confusion, Seth made no resistance when Aunt Hannah ordered him back to bed; but obeyed silently, moving stealthily as when he began the flight. He was trembling as with a sudden chill when he undressed and laid himself down, while Snip lost no time in curling his tiny body into a good imitation of a ball, wondering, perhaps, why he had thus been needlessly disturbed in his "beauty sleep."

Seth was no longer capable of speculating upon the problem in which he had been involved through a lead nickel and an advertisement in the newspapers. He could only realize that Aunt Hannah had good reason to believe him a thief, or worse, otherwise she would not have been waiting to discover if he attempted to prowl around the house while she was supposed to be asleep, and his cheeks burned with shame at the thought.

He wished that the night might never come to an end, and then he would not be forced to meet her face to face, as he must when the sun rose.

"Of course she'll tell Gladys where she found me, an' both of 'em will believe I'm the worst feller that ever lived!" he whispered to himself; and then tears, bitter and scalding, flowed down his cheeks, moistening the spotless linen, but bringing some slight degree of comfort, because sleep quickly followed in their train.

Seth was awakened next morning by Aunt Hannah's voice, as she called gently:

"It's time to get up, my dear. The sun is out looking for boys an' dogs, an' you mustn't disappoint him."

Snip ran eagerly down the stairs as if to greet some one for whom he had a great affection, and Seth heard the little woman say to him:

"I really believe Gladys was in the right when she said I would come to like you almost as much as if you were a cat. Do you want a saucer of milk?"

"She won't talk so pleasantly when I get there," Seth said to himself. "I'd rather take a sound flogging than have her look at me as if I was a thief!"

The lad soon came to know Aunt Hannah better than to accuse her of being cruel even in the slightest degree.

When he entered the kitchen she greeted him with a kindly smile, and said, much as if the events of the previous night were no more than a disagreeable dream:

"You see I'm beginning to depend on you already, Seth. Gladys isn't up yet, and I've left White-Face in the barn thinkin' you'd take her to the pasture. The grass is wet with dew, an' I'm gettin' so old that I don't dare take the chances of wetting my feet."

Seth did not wait to make his toilet, but ran swiftly to the barn, rejoicing because of the opportunity to perform some task.

When the cow had been cared for he loitered around outside, picking up a stick here and a stone there as if it was of the highest importance that the lawn in front of the house be freed from litter of every kind before breakfast.

His one desire was to avoid coming face to face with Aunt Hannah until it should be absolutely necessary, and while he was thus inventing work Gladys came out in search of Snip.

Seth understood at once that the girl was yet ignorant of his attempt to run away, and his heart swelled with gratitude toward the little woman who had thus far kept secret what he would have been ashamed to tell.

Just then Snip was of far more importance in the eyes of Aunt Hannah's niece than was his master, and after a hasty "good-morning" she ran away with the dog at her heels for the accustomed exercise before breakfast.

"Come in an' wash your face, my dear. Breakfast will be cooked by the time you are ready to eat it, and such work as you are doing may as well be left until a more convenient season."

Seth felt forced to obey this summons promptly; but he did not dare meet the little woman's glance. Had he observed her closely, however, it would have been seen that she studiously avoided looking toward him. Aunt Hannah was averse to causing pain, even to the brutes which came in her way, and at this particular time she understood very much of what was in the boy's mind.

Seth feared lest in the "prayer before breakfast" some reference might be made to what he had attempted to do during the night; but his fears were groundless. The little woman asked that her Father's blessing might fall upon the homeless; but the words were spoken in the same fervent, kindly tone as on the evening previous, and again the boy thanked her in his heart.

When the morning meal had come to an end Gladys was eager Seth should join her and Snip on an excursion through the grove where squirrels were said to be "thick as peas," and under almost any other circumstances the guest would have been delighted to accept the invitation; but now he insisted that there was very much work to be done before nightfall, which would force him to remain near the house.

"We've only to plant the garden," Aunt Hannah interrupted, "an' then there's no reason why you shouldn't enjoy a stroll among the trees."

Seth remained silent, but determined to do all in his power to atone for what seemed to him very nearly a crime, and Gladys decided that she must also take part in the sowing of the seeds.

Until noon the three, with Snip as a most interested spectator, worked industriously, and then, as Aunt Hannah said, "there was nothing to be done save wait patiently until the sun and the rain had performed their portion of the task."

Seth did not join Gladys and Snip in their afternoon romp, but continued at his self-imposed tasks until night had come, doing quite as much work with his mind as his hands. Twenty times over he resolved to tell the little woman exactly why he was forced to run away from New York, and as often decided he could not confess himself such a criminal as it seemed certain, because of the advertisement, he really was.

"I couldn't stand it to have her look at me after she knew everything," he repeated again and again.

There was no idea in his mind as to how the matter might end, save when now and then he had the faintest of faint hopes that perhaps she might forget, or learn the truth from some one other than himself.

During three days he struggled between what he knew to be duty and his own inclination, and in all that time the little woman never showed by word or look that there was any disagreeable secret between them.

Seth tried to ease his conscience by working most industriously during every moment of daylight, and then came the time when it was absolutely impossible to find anything more for his hands to do. He had swept the barn floor until it was as clean as a broom could make it; the wood in the shed had been piled methodically; a goodly supply of kindlings were prepared, and not so much as a pebble was to be seen on the velvety lawn.

Gladys had tried in vain to entice him away from what she declared was useless labor, and Snip did all within the power of a dog to coax his master into joining him in the jolly strolls among the trees or across the green fields, and yet Seth remained nearabout the little house in a feverish search for something with which to employ his hands.

"It's no use, Snippey dear," he said on the fourth night of his stay at the farm, after the family had retired, "I can't stay an' not tell Aunt Hannah, an' it's certain we won't be allowed to stop more'n a minute after she knows the truth. If I could talk to her in the dark, when I couldn't see her face, it wouldn't seem quite so bad; but we go to bed so early there's no chance for that. We must have it out mighty soon, for I can't hang 'round here many hours longer without tellin' all about ourselves."

He was not ready for bed, although an hour had passed since he bade Aunt Hannah and Gladys good-night.

The moon had gilded the rail fence, the shed, and the barn until they were transformed into fairy handiwork; the road gleamed like gold with an enamel of black marking the position of trees and bushes, and Seth had gazed upon the wondrous picture without really being aware of time's flight.

Having repeated to Snip that which was in his mind, the boy was on the point of making himself ready for a visit from the dream elves when he heard, apparently from the room below, what sounded like a fall, a smothered exclamation, and the splintering of glass.

Only for a single instant did he stand motionless, and then, realizing that some accident must have happened, he ran downstairs, Snip following close behind, barking shrilly.

Once in the kitchen an exclamation of terror burst from his lips.

The room was illumined by a line of fire, seemingly extending entirely across the floor, which was fringed by a dense smoke that rose nearly to the ceiling, and, beside the table, where she had evidently fallen, lay Aunt Hannah, struggling to smother with bare hands the yellow, dancing flames that had fastened upon her clothing.

It needed not the fragments of glass and brass to tell Seth that the little woman had accidentally fallen, breaking the lamp she carried, and that the fire was fed by oil.

Like a flash there came into his mind the memory of that night when Dud Wilson overturned a lamp on the floor of his news-stand, and he had heard it said then that the property might have been saved if the boys had smothered the flames with their coats, or any fabric of woollen, instead of trying to drown it out with water.

He pulled off his coat in a twinkling, threw it over the prostrate woman, and added to the covering rag rugs from the floor, pressing them down firmly as he said, in a trembling voice, much as though speaking to a child:

"Don't get scared! We can't put the fire out with water; but I'll soon smother it."

"You needn't bother about me, my child; but attend to the house! It would be dreadful if we should lose the dear old home!"

"I'll get the best of this business in a jiffy; but it won't do to give you a chance of bein' burned."

"There is no fire here now." And Aunt Hannah threw back the rugs, despite Seth's hold upon them, to show that the flames were really quenched. "For mercy's sake, save the house! It's the only home I ever knew, an' my heart would be wellnigh broken if I lost it!"

Before she had ceased speaking Seth was flinging rug after rug on the burning oil, for Aunt Hannah, like many another woman living in the country, had an ample supply of such floor coverings.

Not until he had entirely covered that line of flame, and had danced to and fro over the rugs to stamp out the last spark of fire, did he venture to open the outside door, and it was high time, for the pungent smoke filled the kitchen until it was exceedingly difficult to breathe.

The little woman remained upon the floor where Seth had first found her, and it was only after the night breeze was blowing through the room, carrying off the stifling vapor, that the boy had time to wonder why she made no effort to rise.

"Are you hurt?" he cried anxiously, running to her side.

"Never mind me until the fire is out."

"There is no more fire, an' I'm bound to mind you! Are you hurt?"

"It doesn't seem possible, my dear, an' yet I can't use either ankle or wrist. Of course the bones are not broken; but old people like me don't fall harmlessly as do children."

Seth was more alarmed now than when he saw the flames of the burning oil threatening the destruction of the building, and he dumbly wondered why Gladys did not make her appearance.

The first excitement was over, and now he had time in which to be frightened.

"What can I do? Oh, what can I do?" he cried, running to and fro, and then, hardly aware of his movements, he shouted loudly for Gladys.

"Don't waken her!" Aunt Hannah cried warningly. "If you can't help me there is nothing she can do."

"Ain't she in the house?" Seth asked nervously.

He feared Aunt Hannah might die, and even though she was in no real danger, to stand idly by not knowing how to aid her was terrible.

He failed to observe that Snip was no longer in the room; but just at that moment his shrill barking was heard in an adjoining apartment, and Seth knew the dog had gone to find his little playmate.

"You mustn't get frightened after the danger is all over, my dear," Aunt Hannah said soothingly. "But for you the house would have been destroyed, and now we have nothing to fear."

"But you can't get up!" Seth wailed.

"That wouldn't be a great misfortune compared with losing our home, even if I never got up again," the little woman said quietly. "But I'm not going to lie here. Surely you can help me on to the couch."

"Tell me how to do it," Seth cried eagerly, and at that moment Gladys appeared in the doorway.

"Lean over so that I may put my arms around your neck," Aunt Hannah said, giving no heed to the girl's cry of alarm.

"She fell an' hurt herself," Seth said hurriedly to Gladys, as he obeyed the little woman's injunction. And then, as the latter put her uninjured arm over his neck, he tried to aid the movement by clasping her waist.

"If you can help me just a little bit we'll soon have her on the couch," he cried to Gladys, who by this time was standing at his side.

Aunt Hannah was a tiny woman, and the children, small though they were, did not find it an exceedingly difficult task to raise her bodily from the floor.

Then Gladys lighted a lamp, and it was seen that, in addition to the injuries received by the fall, Aunt Hannah had been grievously burned.

"Yes, I'm in some pain," she said in reply to Seth's anxious questioning; "but now that the house has been saved I have no right to complain. Get some flour, Gladys, and while you are putting it on the worst of the burns, perhaps Seth will run over to Mrs. Dean an' ask if she can come here a few minutes."

"Where does Mis' Dean live?" the lad asked hurriedly, starting toward the door; and he was already outside when Gladys replied:

"It's the first house past the grove where Snip and I went this afternoon!"

Seth gave no heed to his lameness as he ran at full speed down the road; the thought that now was the time when he might in some slight degree repay Aunt Hannah for having given shelter to him and Snip, lending speed to his feet.

The Dean family had not yet retired when he arrived at the farmhouse, and, stopping only sufficiently long to tell in fewest possible words of what had happened, Seth ran back to help Gladys care for the invalid, for he was feverishly eager to have some part in the nursing.

Aunt Hannah was on the couch with her wounds partially bandaged when the boy returned, and although her suffering must have been severe, that placid face was as serene as when he bade her good-night.

"Mis' Dean is comin' right away. What can I do?"

"Nothing more, my dear," the little woman replied quietly. "You have been of such great service to me this night that I can never repay you."

"Please don't say that, Aunt Hannah," Seth cried, his face flushing with shame as he remembered the past. "If I could only do somethin' real big, then perhaps you wouldn't think I was so awful bad."

"I believe you to be a good boy, Seth, and shall until you tell me to the contrary. Even then," she added with a smile, "I fancy it will be possible to find a reasonable excuse."

The arrival of Mrs. Dean put an end to any further conversation, and Seth was called upon to aid in carrying Aunt Hannah to the foreroom, in which was the best bed, although the little woman protested against anything of the kind.

"I am as well off in my own bed, Sarah Dean. Don't treat me as if I was a child who didn't know what was best."

"You are goin' into the foreroom, Hannah Morse, an' that's all there is about it. That bed hasn't been used since the year your brother Benjamin was at home, an' I've always said that if anything happened to you, an' I had charge of affairs, you should get some comfort out of the feathers you earned pickin' berries. We'll take her into the foreroom, boy, for it's the most cheerful, an' she deserves the best that's goin'."

"You can bet she does!" Seth exclaimed with great emphasis; and then he gave all his attention to obeying the many commands which issued from Mrs. Dean's mouth.

When the little woman had been disposed of according to her neighbor's ideas of comfort, Seth was directed to build a fire in the kitchen stove; Gladys received instructions to bring all the old linen to be found; and Snip was ordered into the shed.

Aunt Hannah protested vehemently against this last order, with the result that the dog was banished to Gladys' chamber, and then Mrs. Dean proceeded to attend to the invalid without giving her a voice in any matter, however nearly it might concern herself.

Seth took up his station in the kitchen when other neighbors arrived, summoned most likely by Mr. Dean, and here Gladys joined him after what had seemed to the boy a very long time.

"How is she?" he asked when the girl came softly into the room as if thinking he might be asleep.

"Her hands and arms are burned very badly. Why, Seth, there are blisters as big as my hand, and Mrs. Dean says she suffers terribly; but the dear old woman hasn't made the least little complaint."

"That's 'cause she's so good. If I was like her I needn't bother my head 'bout what was goin' to happen after I died. It would be a funny kind of an angel who wasn't glad to see Aunt Hannah!"

"She'd have burned to death but for you."

"That ain't so, Gladys. I didn't do very much, 'cept throw the rugs an' my coat over her."

"She's just been telling Mrs. Dean that you saved her life, and the house."

"Did she really?" Seth cried excitedly. "Did she say it in them very same words?"

"Aunt Hannah made it sound a good deal better than I can. She said God sent you to this house to help her in the time of trouble, an' she's goin' to see that you always have a home here."

"Wasn't she kind'er out of her head?" Seth asked quickly. "I've heard Mother Hyde say that folks got crazy-like when they ached pretty bad."

"Aunt Hannah knew every word she was saying, and it's true that she might have burned to death if you hadn't been in the house, for I never heard a thing till Snippey came into my room barking."

"I hope I did do as much; but it don't seem jest true."

"Don't you think the house would have burned if some one hadn't put out the fire very quickly?"

"Perhaps so, 'cause the flames jumped up mighty high."

"And since she couldn't move, wouldn't she have been burned to death?"

"I hope so."

"Why, Seth Barrows, how wicked you are!"

"No, no, Gladys, I didn't mean I hoped she'd have burned to death; but I hoped I really an' truly saved her life, 'cause then she won't jump down on me so hard when I tell her."

"Tell her what?"

"Why Snip an' I had to run away from New York."

"Is it something you're ashamed of?" Gladys asked quickly and in surprise.

Seth nodded, while the flush of shame crept up into his cheeks.

Gladys gazed at him earnestly while one might have counted ten, and then said, speaking slowly and distinctly:

"I don't believe it. Aunt Hannah says you're the best boy she ever saw; an' she knows."

"Did Aunt Hannah tell you that, or are you tryin' to stuff me?" And Seth rose to his feet excitedly.

"I hope you don't think I'd tell a lie?"

"Of course I don't, Gladys; but if you only knew how much it means to me – Aunt Hannah's sayin' what you claim she did – there wouldn't be any wonder I had hard work to believe it."

"She said to me those very same words – "

"What ones?"

"That you was the best boy she ever saw, an' it was only yesterday afternoon, when you were splitting kindling wood, that she said it."

Then, suddenly, to Gladys' intense surprise, Seth dropped his head on his arm and burst into a flood of tears.